


i'm a fool for that shake in your thighs

by lost_decade



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Fisting, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 12:32:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11253261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_decade/pseuds/lost_decade
Summary: There are thrills to be found away from racing and Nico is determined to uncover them all one way or another.





	1. Berlin

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Open by Rhye.

Nico isn’t sure why he calls. It could be the adrenaline still high in his veins from the keynote speech, that little frisson of excitement at having an entire room clap and cheer him recalling other such moments in the past.  There's something about being able to hold an audience that way. Of course it could just be the wine he shared with Georg over dinner; a decent aged St Emilion always feels like an old familiar friend, the rich earthy oak warm and comforting. They had clinked glasses in a congratulatory cheers, another successful event completed. 

He flicks through the pictures that Georg had taken of the event on his phone, relaxed beneath the heaters out on the terrace while the older man is inside on the phone wrapping up some business. It’s late and the restaurant has emptied out a little, only a couple of other tables outside still occupied. Swallowing the last of the wine, he looks out across the gentle flowing darkness of the Spree, the lights of the TV Tower flickering down onto Alexanderplatz in the distance. He has always projected a certain belonging and delight in being here, patriotic but in a slightly forced way. German is his first language after all, but the country has never truly felt like home even with the number of times he’s stood beneath the flag on the podium. More and more with age home feels like people rather than places and even in Monaco there’s a sense that no one living there ever truly belongs, unless your blood runs Grimaldi royal. 

It is perhaps inevitable that his thoughts turn to Lewis. Absence, despite what he’d sort of hoped, has not made him forget and there’s a half-formed thought in the back of his mind about how the people you meet when you’re young can affect you so deeply you never quite stop thinking about them. Years ago Nico had been the one to absorb Lewis’ restlessness, soothing his demons - late nights in Italy and whispered confessions about not fitting in, not being able to keep still, boundless energy and wide-awake at dawn, Nico opening his eyes to find his teammate sleep-deprived and watching him, a sad sort of smile on his face. “I feel better with you around,” Lewis had said back then, years ago. Nico has stopped wondering when the opposite began to be true. 

Seeing Lewis now though, serious-faced and handsome on the red carpet at the MET Gala, looking out of the screen of his phone, he can’t help but think that his former teammate has found somewhere he belongs. Even if it is in a world that to Nico seems shallow and unreal. In the end maybe that’s why he calls, to remind Lewis that he still lives upstairs - that he’s still waiting for him to make a move if he ever comes back to Monaco for longer than a day. 

He isn’t really expecting Lewis to answer. 

“Green suits you,” Nico says when the call connects. It may be afternoon in New York but it’s late in Berlin and he’s not in the mood for a cagey, passive aggressive chat. 

Too often it feels like they have conversations where nothing at all is said and if he’s honest he’s not sure when that started or how they both so easily let it continue. Championships were at stake then though. It’s different now. Or, Nico wants it to be.

Lewis doesn’t reply for a moment. The softness of his breath across the Atlantic is too familiar and Nico lets himself imagine for just a second that he can feel it on his face, lips close together, sharing the same pillow. But it’s just the breeze across the river. 

“Reminded me of your eyes, man,” Lewis says, snapping into action suddenly. “Shame you had other plans today or you could’ve been my date.” His tone is teasing but there’s an echo of an old argument in there that Nico isn’t going to touch. 

“Such a romantic,” he replies, glancing at the percentage on the empty wine bottle, even as he’s aware that the quickening of his pulse is down to nothing other than the voice of the man on the other end of the phone. 

“Only when it’s you. When’s the last time you were in New York anyway, you should come out here, go for some food in the Village.” 

“We could go for food in Monaco.” 

“Yeah, I guess. Too many other things going on there though, man.” By other things, Nico wonders if he means Vivian and Alaïa and Georg. He doesn’t ask. 

“I was worried about you after yesterday,” Nico says, because fuck it, he’s sick of the both of them dancing around each other and never actually saying what they’re thinking. “You didn’t seem in a good place.” 

“I’ll get over it, it’s a long season. Isn’t that what you always used to say.” 

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Nico answers. He wants to say more, wants to point out that he views Lewis’ post-race interviews in a different light now that they’re no longer racing each other, but a rushed phone call isn’t really the time. ‘It hurts me to see you hurting’ would be giving too much of himself away when he can’t even see Lewis’ reaction, but part of him needs to put it out there. “Lewis, I think we should meet up and---” he begins.

“Nice to know you like my suit but what are  _ you _ wearing?” Lewis cuts him off, voice lower and the noise that had been in the background now fading, the sound of a door closing. 

“No way. I’m in public.” 

“That used to be half the fun, remember?”

Nico remembers; their late teenage years apart and phone bills his dad didn’t understand, an imaginary English girlfriend he just had to keep calling. He feels his face flush with the memory, the filthiest things they could say to each other across the distance to keep it interesting, the way Lewis knew exactly how to say them at just the right moment to make him lose it. It had been a competition just like everything else. In a way that's what Nico misses about him the most. No one else quite gets it. 

  
“I remember,” Nico says. And he knows he shouldn't but can't stop himself from adding  “sometimes I wish we could go back to that.” 

“Seems like a different lifetime doesn’t it? Well, for me it does. It kinda is I guess.” 

Nico looks away from the Berlin skyline, catching sight of Georg through the glass doors.

“Yeah, it does. Lewis, I…” he takes a deep breath.  _ I miss you. I want you back.  _ The words catch in his throat, he can’t quite form them. “L ook, I have to go,” he says as Georg strides over, hanging up his phone and placing it down on the table. 

“Lewis?” Georg asks, taking a seat opposite Nico. 

He considers saying it was Vivian for a moment, but he'd already called her earlier, and there’s no reason to not tell the truth really, he’s a big boy and he can take care of himself. It's just he's always wondered if Georg really approves as much as he insists he does. 

“Yes, how did you know?” is his slightly sheepish response. 

“You have that same look you always get around him -  _ fond but exasperated _ .” 

“He has that effect on a lot of people.”

“He'll come around eventually,” Georg says, and Nico would really like to believe that. 

“Coffee?” Georg asks then. Nico agrees but really his mind is still elsewhere, thoughts skimming over Lewis and his A-list gala. Part of it is jealousy –  Nico has never been able to move in those circles so easily, slip in and out in different guises, one minute the focussed sportsman and the next a celebrity, hanging out with cinematic legends and reality TV stars alike. It’s not that he wants to be like that, it’s just that he resents not having the ability to be. One more thing that Lewis can do better than him.

Maybe he should give it a go, he thinks, as the waiter sets down their coffees along with two warmed brandy glasses, pouring the liquid into them from the bottle. He swirls the glass a little, inhaling the scent as he thinks of it. But it’s the best thing for him, he knows, the place he’s at now. Georg has spent his life doing this and he knows how it works. Nico is the wholesome one, the family man, dedicated and responsible, considerate and dependable. This is what they’ve worked so hard to project and while it’s true he’s also so much fucking more than that. It seems to him sometimes that there was once a point at which Lewis and himself converged, a line in the sand that they had stood on side by side until eventually they both started walking in opposite directions, so far away that the original point is now almost invisible to them both, as if it never existed. Nico can’t quite give up on the hope that one day they’ll come full circle and find each other again, even as it seems more improbable with every passing year. 

They settle up the bill and take a cab the short distance back to the hotel, the lights along Friedrichstrasse an ever moving shadow across Nico’s face. He should stop thinking about Lewis, it’s been an amazing day and he shouldn’t have messed with all his good vibes by making that call. He curses himself for still caring about him even after everything. 

The mix of wine and brandy has left him feeling nicely relaxed though and he leans back against the leather of the seat, aware of Georg’s hand resting on his thigh, long fingers curling over him. It’s going to be one of those nights, he realises with a soft smile, spreading his legs just a fraction wider as he tips his head to rest on Georg’s shoulder. He loves this feeling, that safe, protected warmth he always seems to draw from Georg. The older man takes the invitation for what it is, gliding his hand up further, stroking over the growing bulge in Nico’s suit trousers and drawing a whimper from his lips. 

“Ssh,” Georg whispers, low against the shell of Nico’s ear, glancing forward at the cab driver who is humming along to a tune on the radio unaware. Nico chews on his lip, trying to calm himself. It's Lewis and the memory of their teenage forays into phone sex, still playing on his mind and making him aroused more quickly than he normally would be were it just him and Georg. 

He squirms a bit, hips pushing forward, frustrated that all he's going to get is a mild bit of teasing until they get back to the hotel. It's a short journey though and the pressure of Georg’s hand, not moving now but still firm against him, is better than nothing. Still his belt is uncomfortable against the head of his dick and it's a relief when the car finally pulls up outside the entrance to the hotel, Nico folding his jacket over his arm to subtly camouflage his erection as they walk over to the elevators. 

The doors are just sliding closed, Georg moving immediately closer to him, eyes dark with a controlled lust that Nico knows is always on the verge of faltering. It’s one of the things he loves so much about this, the way that Georg is so strong, so calm but always on the edge of losing it. It makes Nico feel so intensely wanted. In the instant that Georg is about to press him back against the mirrored wall of the elevator a hand slips between the doors, forcing them back open, the offending tourist murmuring his apologies in American accented English. Nico sighs and looks at the floor; now would not be a good moment to be recognised. 

Thankfully the guy barely seems aware of them, thumbing through a guidebook while the carriage rises through the floors. Georg moves to stand directly behind Nico, his hands resting lightly against Nico’s hips, dick hard against his lower back. Nico holds his breath, pushing back against him and trying to be silent when Georg licks just below his ear, blowing lightly over the damp skin and making him shudder.

Thankfully their fellow passenger gets out on the seventh floor, the closing doors leaving them finally alone. 

Georg turns Nico in his arms then, leaning down to crush their mouths together as he pushes Nico back against the mirrored wall, the suit jacket falling to the floor. Georg kicks it out of the way as he licks into Nico’s mouth and oh god all it would take is for someone to call the elevator on one of these floors and they’d be so so screwed. 

“Want me to press the emergency stop?” Georg asks as he undoes a couple more buttons on Nico’s shirt, mouthing along his collarbone. “It’d be at least twenty minutes before they could get us out. Plenty of time for me to make you come all over the mirror.” 

Nico moans something unintelligible as Georg turns him around again so they’re both facing the mirror, their eyes meeting in the glass. Nico focuses only on Georg, flinching when he catches sight of himself and how utterly wrecked he looks already before he’s even been properly touched. 

“Would you like that, watching yourself while I fuck you, knowing that we’re being watched on the security camera?” 

No, Nico thinks, that would be too much, too far and he can feel his cheeks heat up in shame at the thought, even as he’s murmuring “yes” in response, because Georg knows the line between what he likes and what fills him with revulsion and just how fine it is. Just as he’s wondering whether Georg is crazy enough to actually stop them mid air the elevator smooths to a stop on their floor. Georg steps out, switching to being utterly composed in a way that Nico can't quite comprehend.

“Shit, I have to call home,” Georg says, when they're safely inside his hotel room, hands stilling as Nico’s belt falls open. His hand slips inside Nico’s trousers and below the waistband of his underwear, thumb rubbing over the head of his cock and making him tremble. 

He watches Nico’s reaction carefully, repeating the action with a wicked smile before reluctantly withdrawing his hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking Nico’s pre-come from his thumb. He doesn’t miss the little intake of breath from the World Champion at that. 

“You can take a shower if you want, I won’t be very long.” 

“Sure,” Nico replies, his hand lingering at Georg’s waist for a second before he comes to his senses and heads into the gleaming marble bathroom, trying to clear his mind and resisting the urge to just jerk off.

*

The warm pressure of the water is reviving, soothing on Nico’s skin. It’s always so easy with Georg, he thinks. It’s one of the things he likes about this, not having to think about anything, just being able to let himself go without any repercussions. With Lewis it became a competition, wrapped up in feelings and regrets, nights ending in one of them slamming the door and the other left alone. Coldness lingering between them and so many things unsaid. Nico can never forget the very last time (he refuses to call it the end), two years ago now - Lewis sitting behind him, arms around him and his cheek resting on Nico's shoulder, tears dampening the valley between his shoulderblades.

“Being with you,” Lewis had said, “It’s the loneliest fuck in the world.” They haven’t touched each other since.    


With Georg he can let himself go without fear of anything being used against him, without even having to think about it. Before it was a way of working out all the pent-up post race emotions, Georg getting to his knees in the Mercedes motorhome and blowing him so expertly that all Nico wanted to do after was curl up and sleep right there on the sofa, all the adrenaline drained from him. Before that he'd have stayed awake for hours into the night, playing poker online and thinking about Lewis and what it would take to beat him. 

Now he isn't quite sure what this thing is between them anymore, just that he likes it too much to want to stop.   
  


* 

Georg is frowning at his phone when Nico walks back out into the suite. He looks tired, troubled, Nico realises with surprise. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah, family stuff. Nothing for you to worry about.” Something feels off though, a negativity in the atmosphere that hadn't been there ten minutes ago. Nico bites his lip, walking over to where Georg stands near the window, all of Berlin stretched out behind him.  

“You can talk to me, you know. About anything.” 

Georg smiles as if at some private joke that Nico isn't in on. “I know,” he replies, “but now isn't the time.” He slips his phone into his trouser pocket, cupping Nico’s cheek and leaning down to kiss him, deep and languidly. The frantic urgency from earlier has dissipated a little and now that they're safely in the hotel the night stretches out before Nico. 

It's perhaps self indulgent but he wants to be savoured in the way he knows Georg is so expert at, drawing it out and taking him to the edge only to stop and tease all over again. Him and Lewis were always so desperate for each other back in the early days that any control went out the window. 

He can't help it, as Georg unties the knot of his bathrobe, slipping one hand inside and stroking up his stomach while the other slides back into his hair as they kiss. He can't help but think of Lewis and his words from earlier. Nico doesn't think of their teenage years very often now. Failure is always something he's hated, especially in himself - and with Lewis, really…when Nico looks at every race, every Championship lost, none of them seem as worse a failure as fucking up the love of your life. He would even be willing to swallow his pride and shoulder most of the blame if it meant that they could properly fix things. But Lewis’ view of the world is different to Nico’s and although he'd never admit it now Nico knows that Lewis has always wanted the kind of monogamous relationship that was never going to be on offer.

Georg pushes him back against the glass of the floor length window, mouthing at his neck, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin lightly enough that there won't be any marks. Nico closes his eyes and just for a second lets himself remember - 2003 and the confusion of being apart, in different series and different countries. Lewis’ voice whispering down the phone. He was at Le Mans, he remembers, his first win of the season and not long after his eighteenth birthday.

Georg presses up against him, the buckle of his belt cold against Nico’s stomach making him shiver as he steps forward into the older man's arms, allowing him to slide the bathrobe down his shoulders to the floor. 

Nico gasps as he finds himself pressed back against the cool glass of the window, Georg sinking to his knees in front of him and all the glory of the Berlin night stretching out behind. 

He slides his hands up the insides of Nico's thighs, lightly stroking before his lips glide over Nico's balls, tonguing them gently, beard scratchy against the sensitive skin. When he licks up the length of his hardening cock Nico moans, fingers flexing against the glass. 

_ “Keep touching yourself,”  _ he remembers. “ _ Yeah like that.” _ One of the empty hospitality rooms at the track, all those years ago, stickiness of alcohol still on his skin and one hand shoved inside his overalls. The July heat dizzying and Lewis’ voice low down the phone.  _ “Talk to me Nico, tell me how good you feel. Fuck I wish I was there on my knees for you. I'd make you come so hard.”  _ He can still picture it so clearly even after all this time, Lewis’ breath heavy and his voice strained, the miles between them melting away.

Nico gasps as Georg’s lips close around the head of his dick, taking him in deep, tongue tracing up the underside and making his knees shake. It's the perfect amount of slick suction, Georg cradling his balls, one finger stroking further back a lightly teasing promise of what will be later. Nico rests one hand lightly on Georg's head, soft but urgent, grappling for purchase in his short hair while his other hand trails down his cheek, seeking out the motion of his cock slipping in and out of his mouth.

Nico’s  back is sticking to the glass, a fleeting thought in his mind about what if someone were to see in from one of the buildings across the park, to see him like this. 

  
His face flushes with a mix of shame and arousal at the thought of it, just as Georg pulls back to swirl his tongue around the head of Nico’s dick, dipping into the slit while working him more roughly with his hand. The sensations are just this side of heaven, the slide of Georg’s palm aided by the slickness of pre-come and saliva. 

What would Lewis do, is the thought that half floats into Nico’s mind then. What would he do if saw the two of them like this? Would he call Nico a slut like he had once before, when he’d found out that he wasn’t the only man to have occupied Nico’s bed, not understanding that it didn’t mean Nico loved him any less? Or would he join in? 

Nico’s head is in their teenage phonecall again as he moans loudly, squeezing Georg’s shoulder and gathering the material of his shirt in his fist. Lewis’ breathing so ragged, so gone. 

_ “Oh god I love you,” _ Lewis had murmured - and Nico had come all over his hand at just how wrecked he’d sounded, rendering his fireproofs a sticky mess. 

He loses it now, caught up in the vividness of it like some lucid dream as he comes in the wet heat of Georg’s mouth, sagging back against the window as Georg swallows around him, licking and kissing him clean with such care. Nico lets himself be cuddled then, wrapped into the warmth of the older man’s arms. He tilts his head upwards for a kiss, Georg complying, pushing his tongue into Nico's mouth and letting him taste himself there.

“You look so fucking beautiful when you come,” Georg whispers, taking Nico's hand and leading him into the bedroom. “Let's see if I can make you do it again.”


	2. London

“You were amazing up there today,” Georg says, smiling. His hand rests ever so lightly against the side of Nico’s thigh, almost imperceptibly stroking through his suit trousers. It’s late in the evening, the two of them alone in a corner of the conservatory bar. Speeches done with and a five course dinner later and Nico feels so relaxed, as if he could just close his eyes and drift to sleep in the opulent surroundings of glass and tinted lights, palm trees swaying in the fake breeze of the fans. It doesn’t really feel like London, but then it’s somewhere way outside the M25 so it isn’t really London at all. 

Georg’s hand becomes bolder, slipping up the inside of his thigh and stroking him firmly, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. It’s been happening more frequently, Nico muses, each event, each night away in a hotel and it’s Georg’s bed he always ends up in. It feels like a habit but it’s one that he doesn’t want to break out of. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Nico replies, leaning in close to him. The sofa is soft and comfortable and Nico thinks for a moment that Georg might just push him back onto it right there in the bar where anyone could see. Part of him wishes he would. 

“You could,” Georg replies, “but I’m happy I’m here with you.” 

“So am I,” Nico says, and yeah he truly means it, irrationally happy to see Georg’s dimpled smile, knowing that it's for him.

“Ready to turn in?” Georg asks when they’ve finished their beers and the bar staff are lingering, clearly waiting to close up. Their rooms are opposite each other and there’s an awkward sort of moment where Nico lingers in the corridor turning his keycard around in his hand almost bashfully, because although it’s become a given that they’re going to end the night in the same room after this sort of event, they’ve never actually discussed it and Nico still isn’t really sure if Georg is the driving force behind this continuing with such regularity or if he is. 

“Do you erm, want to come in?” Nico asks kind of unnecessarily, because the way Georg is looking at him, all soft eyes and affection, already answers that question. 

“Yes,” Georg says, taking a step closer to him and leaning down to brush their lips together lightly. “God I really do.” 

They kiss for a moment there in the corridor, the danger of being seen almost as arousing as the feel of Georg’s body against Nico’s own. Nico presses closer, reaching around to squeeze at Georg's arse as they lick into each other's mouths. There are thrills to be found away from racing and he’s determined to uncover them all one way or another. 

“Do you need to make any phone calls,” Nico asks when they’re inside his hotel room, taking off his suit jacket and placing it over the back of the chair. His shirt is already untucked and his fly open. It's hard to think about practical things such as how Georg doesn't get to see his wife and children as often as Nico sees Vivian and Alaïa, not when they're in this strange vacuum of hotel living. 

Georg frowns at the question though. “We’re taking some time apart,” he says, not meeting Nico’s eyes, “so no, I don’t need to call.” 

And fuck, where the hell did that come from? Nico crowds into him, his arms sliding around his waist. “You never said anything.” 

“It's temporary, and nothing really to tell,” Georg whispers, sliding his fingers back into Nico’s hair and tilting his head back, covering Nico’s mouth with his own. 

They kiss lazily, Georg lightly stroking up Nico’s back beneath his shirt. “We’ll work it out,” he says when they part, reading Nico’s thoughts through the worry in his eyes. “It's a lot of things, but we'll be alright.”

“You know you can talk to me…” 

 “Yes, I know. There’s other things I’d rather do to you first,” Georg says, voice low. Their eyes meet and Nico shivers at the intensity with which Georg is looking at him.

“Show me,” Nico challenges, starting to unbutton his shirt, putting on a show of it. He lets Georg push him back onto the hotel desk, sucking blossoming marks into his neck that Nico just knows Vivian is going to press her fingers to until he begs her to stop tomorrow night. 

*

 “Tell me what you need,” Georg urges, when they’re lying on the bed some time later, clothes discarded and both of them hard, Georg jerking both their dicks in his hand. Nico tries to think beyond the need to come, looking up into his grey eyes and gasping at the delicious friction of them both together. He presses his fingers to Georg’s lips and god there it is in his mind, the thought of Georg on his knees with Lewis’ dick in his mouth, all of his lovers together in the same room. If only. 

“I want your mouth on me,” he says instead with a groan.

Georg obliges and he’s more than perfect, rolling Nico over onto his stomach. His dick is leaking all over the sheets and he presses into them in search of friction as Georg spreads him wide, tongue teasing around his hole. If this was anyone else Nico would probably be ashamed at the way he’s undone so easily, but Georg has seen him at his worst and at his best, held him while he cried in Austin in 2015 and made love with him in Abu Dhabi the night he won the title, Vivian there beside them touching herself as they all came apart. 

He’s unable to stop himself from thrusting against the sheets when Georg’s tongue finally dips inside him, firm but still a tease, still not enough. Nico groans, pressing back against him as the sensations intensify. The combination of Georg licking delicately over him with the tip of his tongue and the scratchy burn of his beard against Nico's arse cheeks when he pushes in deeper are maddening, an impossible tease. The pressure then of fingers sliding over his hole are so welcome and Nico arches his back when Georg pushes the tip of his middle finger into him, tongue darting around it for a moment before he withdraws altogether to go and grab the lube from his suitcase. 

He turns Nico over onto his back, fingering him open for almost longer than he can take. Nico clutches at the sheets as Georg fucks into him with his fingers, the rhythm deliberately frustrating as he keeps avoiding touching right where Nico needs. “I could do this to you all night,” Georg whispers as he groans in frustration.

Nico reaches back to grip the headboard, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach. “You’re worse than Lewis used to be,” he chastises, and Georg’s fingers press hard against his prostate then, almost too much. Their eyes meet, a loaded wordless exchange and yes, Nico is going to fix everything and get the two of them in the same bed with him if it’s the last thing he ever does.

“Keep going then, if you can do this all night,” Nico grits out, “it’s not enough.”

Georg doesn’t catch what he means at first, studying his face for any signs of discomfort as he teases a third finger against Nico’s entrance, almost losing focus at the feeling of Nico’s flesh around him, the slight flutter of his arsehole. It’s moments like this that he almost wants Nico above anything else, above his comfortable life and the woman he’s chosen to share it with. But  _ only _ in these moments, when it feels like the balance is all skewed. It’s too complicated to think of now and he forces himself back into the present, to the man lying before him, trusting him with his body and perhaps more than that.

“More fingers,” Nico urges, when Georg pushes the third finger into him, and oh. Oh fuck. Nico spreads his legs wider, and when he speaks it’s so soft, shy almost. “I want you to,” he says. 

Georg strokes his dick a couple of times, trying not to lose control because god he thinks he might just come from the very idea of what Nico is implying. He shakes his head.

“Not now, not like this,” Georg replies. “Tonight I want to fuck you.”

They switch positions then, Georg propped up against the pillows and Nico straddling him, riding him hard until they’re both panting breathlessly, Georg looking up at him in awe. He can’t describe how much it means that he gets to see Nico like this, there’s no logical explanation for how this came to be. He just knows that he wants to hold on and never let go. Wherever they are, whether it’s Formula One or Silicon Valley, he never wants to let this end.

Nico leans forward and kisses him then, moaning into his mouth as Georg slides a hand down his back, dipping lower to the point where they’re joined and tracing a fingertip around Nico’s stretched rim. He feels Nico tense then, thrusts harder into him and wraps his arms around him as the blond shudders in his arms, coming hard between them. The feel of him clenching tight around his dick is all that’s needed to push Georg over the edge, biting at Nico’s shoulder to stop himself from yelling his name and probably waking up the Queen of Jordan in the next fucking room. He half laughs at the thought, clutching Nico to him and pressing kisses to his neck as they both shiver through it.

Nico slips off him, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath when Georg reaches down and presses a finger to his hole, sliding through the slick wetness of his own come and painting it across Nico's lips, leaning in to kiss it off.

“When did you become so filthy?” Nico asks.

“When did you?” Georg counters, and to his credit Nico doesn't even blush, smiling back at Georg as he walks off towards the bathroom. 

*

“I wasn't going to say anything, but I ran into Lewis in London yesterday,” Nico says just as they're settling down to sleep. He yawns and shifts against Georg’s shoulder.

“How did that go?”

Nico thinks for a moment, trying to order his thoughts. “He…” he begins, thinking back over the conversation. “He said he doesn't know how it's possible to be in love with more than one person at the same time.”

Georg is quiet for a moment. “And do you think it is possible?” he asks, finally. 

“Yes.”

“He might change his mind.”

“Hmm.”

They fall silent for a long while, Georg holding Nico, listening to the soft relaxed sound of his breathing.

“Georg?” Nico whispers as he's drifting to sleep, his breath warm against the older man’s chest, “do  _ you _ think it's possible?”

“I know it is,” is the soft, mumbled reply. “Some people just find it harder to comprehend than others,” Georg says, trying to ignore the little pang of agony deep in his chest; the knowledge that if he was made to choose he couldn’t choose Nico.


	3. Ibiza

“Another?” Nico asks, pointing to the bag of beer bottles perched on the edge of the blanket. The stars are out above them, light catching on the ocean and illuminating the froth of every swelling wave. Georg wonders if Nico could be persuaded to strip and dive in there with him, imagines kissing the taste of salt water from his skin, drying off under the moonlight and falling asleep on the blanket, Nico using his chest as a pillow as he’s fallen into the habit of doing. 

Georg shakes his head. “We should probably get back,” he says almost regretfully, reaching for his shoes and knocking the sand from them. 

They make their way back up the beach, the house dark and empty. “You know, I’ve missed you,” Georg says, setting down the beach blanket beside the door and moving in close to Nico, crowding him against the wall. It’s only been a few weeks but Nico feels it too, the gradual change from occasionally to frequently to  _ always  _ wanting. The balance has shifted – maybe it did a long while ago, but it isn’t about forgetting a bad race anymore, it’s about something else. 

“I’ve missed you too,” Nico whispers, face upturned, waiting to be kissed. 

The evening is warm, the scent of Nico’s skin and the taste of the beer on his tongue is heady and so so wonderful as Georg leans down to kiss him; hands under his t-shirt caressing softly as he yields to Georg’s mouth, letting himself be pushed back against the wall. Nico sighs into the kiss and it’s almost as if he can feel all of the tension melting away. He isn’t used to being so directionless as he is this year, trying to find somewhere to fit in away from racing, something to call his own that isn’t tainted by the memory of Lewis. It bothers him still, the entanglement of their lives; love and frustration and never being able to co-exist. He wants to so badly, wants Georg and Lewis and Vivian all in the same way but differently at the same time. It’s too confusing but in a strange way it’s the only thing that makes sense to him now. He has to pick his goals, he has to find his place somehow. Every time Georg looks at him with pride he feels a little bit closer to the right path to the future.

“Take me to bed,” Nico murmurs, joining their hands and bringing them up to his mouth, kissing at Georg’s knuckles. He isn’t ashamed of needing this. He isn’t ashamed at all. 

*

“Are you sure about this,” Georg asks. Nico lies back on the bed, smiling at him challengingly. 

“Yes,” he replies. “But do you really have to use that?” He gestures towards the single latex glove placed carefully on the bedside table beside the tub of lube. 

Georg looks at him thoughtfully. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly,” he says. “I’d never forgive myself if hurt you.”

“I won’t break,” Nico replies, “but okay.” Georg wavers for a moment. Nico half expects him to suggest they forget it, leave this for another day. “Please,” he whispers, “I want this.”

Georg nods, placing a kiss to Nico’s knee before reaching for the supplies. 

Nico can’t help but feel out of his depth as he watches Georg, the concentration on his face as he moves down the bed. It’s a good nervousness though, his body singing, heart beating faster in the same way it had that very first day he tested the FW24 all those years ago. He hadn’t even known who he was back then, nationality wavering and a naïve belief that he could hang on to all he held dear and still survive F1 intact. None of them are intact, but life is different now. Missing Lewis isn’t going to make him come back. But there’s Georg, there’s this. Nico spreads his legs, lets the feeling of being so wanted wash over him. 

“Are you attracted to Lewis?” he’d asked Georg earlier that evening. “He’s an attractive man,” had been the reply. And of course, because Georg’s feelings remain his own and in part a great mystery to Nico. In other ways he’s an open book and Nico’s name is scrawled across almost every page. 

You have to really work exceptionally hard if you want to have everything, Nico keeps telling himself. This might not be everything, but it’s damn close and he meets Georg’s eyes for just a second, breathing deep as he feels the feather-light stroke of fingers against his arsehole.    


The breeze is soft through the window, carrying the taste of the ocean in as it washes over Nico’s bare skin. He closes his eyes as Georg pushes one finger into him, slow and gentle and searching, making him arch his back and shudder when he gets a second and then a third inside. The slide of the latex is different but not uncomfortable, his dick leaking against his stomach as Georg teases over his prostate. Nico presses his face to the side, pillow soft against his cheek, vague floral fabric conditioner. He breathes it in, bringing up his hand and sucking his fingers into his mouth, trying to quell the moans, obscene and dirty, that are tumbling from his lips. He wants to lose control, wants nothing but hands on his skin, pleasure and sensation and the warmth of giving himself completely while knowing it’s not a weakness, it won’t be used against him. 

Everything narrows down to the feeling of Georg stretching him open, almost too much even as he begs for more. They’ve done things before, toys and plugs and one wonderful time that Vivian tied his wrists to the headboard and fucked him with a strap-on that looked so impossibly big that he was a bit worried, Georg kissing him the whole time. They’ve never done anything like this though, and Nico can’t hide just how much he wants it, not now, not with Georg pushing his whole hand inside him, making him feel things he didn’t know were possible. It’s more than just his body being filled, it’s the knowledge that Georg is doing this  _ for him, _ for no other reason than that Nico asked him to.

Nico slips his fingers from his mouth, pinching at his nipples before sliding down and taking hold of himself, jerking his dick in a counter rhythm to that of Georg's hand inside him. 

The slight hesitation he felt earlier has evaporated and he spreads his legs wider for a moment before hooking one over Georg's shoulder, surrendering to the older man's careful ministrations and letting himself go to the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely. 

Georg looks down at him in awe, taking in the flush of his skin, the way his back arches up from the bed, hair damp with sweat against his forehead. He moans loudly, a desperate string of curses as Georg withdraws to apply more lube,  gently teasing around the rim of his arsehole before pushing back inside him, fingers curling up to glide methodically over his prostate before sliding deeper. 

Nico is caught between the need to come and the longing to draw this out because god, sex has never been like this, he's never felt this raw closeness to anyone as he does to Georg right now. His hand slips over the length of his dick, so slick with pre-come that he can barely achieve the purchase he needs to get himself off. 

Georg watches him carefully, palming his own dick through his underwear to relieve some of the pressure. It's hard to stay in control when Nico is like this, so needy and desperate, but this is for Nico not for him, and Georg would never forgive himself if he were to lose focus and hurt him in any way. 

Georg murmurs endearments, mouthing at Nico's balls as his hand presses deeper inside. It almost takes him by surprise then, the way that Nico brokenly moans his name, his arse clenching tightly around Georg's wrist as he comes all over his stomach. Georg works him through it, pressing kisses against his hip as he slowly fucks in and out with his hand, stroking over Nico's prostate a few more times until he's a shivering over-sensitised mess.

“God, look at you,” Georg whispers as he carefully slips his hand out of Nico, peeling off the latex glove and throwing it out of sight. He kisses the insides of Nico's thighs tenderly before moving up the bed to kneel beside him, caressing his face and smoothing his hair back from his forehead. 

Nico smiles at him, eyes heavily lidded and improbably shy. 

“That was so amazing,” he says, meeting Georg's eyes finally.

“Good, it was supposed to be,” Georg replies, just studying Nico's face for a moment. He's so relaxed, so gorgeous like this and Georg doesn't know how he got lucky enough to have this. The Spanish sunshine has turned Nico's hair even blonder, the odd tiny freckle also dotted across his cheekbones. Georg traces his thumb across them. Everything about him makes Georg’s breath quicken, makes his heart beat faster. Nico looks so young like this, his face so open. It often feels as though there’s a battle going on behind his eyes, a private war that Georg is so rarely privy to. There are times when he shuts down fully, and other times like this when Georg thinks he could ask Nico anything and he’d get an honest answer. 

“You’re so complex,” Georg whispers. “I love that about you.”

“I know you do,” Nico replies, leaning in to his touch.    


He reaches out to press a hand to Georg's neglected erection then, stroking him through his boxers.

“You don't have to, if you're tired,” Georg says, covering Nico's hand with his own.

“I'm never too tired to make you come,” Nico answers, shifting back into the pillows and propping himself up a little more.

Underwear discarded, Georg straddles Nico's chest, weight carefully held in his thighs. He reaches behind himself for a moment, drawing his fingers through the sticky mess coating Nico's stomach and then licking them clean. He does it again, this time pushing his fingers between Nico’s lips and letting him suck the taste of himself from them.

Georg can feel his self-control wavering as Nico nuzzles his cheek against his leaking cock, tongue darting out to trace up the underside. His thighs are trembling and he has to reach out and grip the headboard to stop himself from just collapsing forward, and when Nico’s lips close around the head of his cock Georg knows this isn’t going to last long. Nico tries to take as much of Georg into his mouth as he can, which given the angle isn’t that much, but just the wet heat of his mouth and the memory of Nico’s arse tight around his wrist, the shake and tremble of his body, is enough to send Georg over the edge. He pulls out of Nico’s mouth as he feels his orgasm building, covering his face in thick ribbons of come and leaning forward to clean it all off. Nico kisses him greedily, moaning softly at the taste of them both converging on his tongue. 

Later, when they’ve showered and opened up the French doors, moonlight pale on the patio and the faint distant sound of the ocean a familiar comfort, they curl against each other beneath the sheets. “Thank you for staying,” Nico whispers sleepily. His back is pressed against Georg’s chest and he feels so safe like this, so secure and comfy. 

“I wouldn’t leave you alone tonight after this,” Georg replies, kissing Nico’s hair and wrapping an arm around him.

“I don’t just mean tonight.” 

Georg holds his breath for a moment. “I never want to leave you,” he says, honestly. It’s what he’s been thinking for a while, it’s just hard to say it. “Unless—” he continues, unable to stop that little seed of doubt. 

“No,” Nico cuts him off, “I don’t want you to leave me, ever.” He threads his fingers through Georg’s, closing his eyes.

*    


“I made you both some coffee,” Vivian says, gesturing towards the cafetiere and cups laid out on the table. It’s already mid-morning and they’ve slept in much longer than Nico ever normally would, but it’s nice to be able to do that occasionally now that he’s relaxed his training regime a bit. He steps out onto the terrace and embraces Vivian, Georg following closely behind him and following his lead, kissing Vivian softly on the lips. 

Nico sits between the two of them, pouring out the coffee and making a pleased face at the taste. 

“This is the Colombian isn’t it?” he asks. 

“Yeah, they finally have it in stock again,” Vivian answers. She looks between the two of them, smiling. 

“I spoke to Lewis last night,” she says tentatively, “he agreed to come over for dinner this evening.” 

“He did?” Nico says, “I thought he was in America.” It seems shocking to him for a moment until he remembers that Vivian generally has always had the ability to talk Lewis into just about anything she sets her mind to. 

“He is. People with private planes don’t get to make excuses. I told him I wasn’t taking no for an answer.”

“Right, okay,” Nico says apprehensively, frowning a little. 

“Yes. Your mother said she can have Alaïa, so it’ll be the four of us.”

“And he knows that?” Nico replies somewhat incredulously, glancing at Georg, who smiles fondly at him, reaching to rest a hand on his thigh. 

“Yes, he does. I think he’s finally coming round to the idea,” Vivian replies, leaning over and covering Georg’s hand with her own. 


End file.
